


Take It Out On Me

by eleonorastay



Category: Good Trouble (TV), The Fosters (TV 2013)
Genre: Anti-Brallie, Cheating, F/M, Making Out, Secret dating, Secret love, Some sexy behavior but no actual sexytimes, THIS IS NOT A BRALLIE FIC, Two-timing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 08:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleonorastay/pseuds/eleonorastay
Summary: Callie's with Brandon now. So why does she keep showing up at Wyatt's door?Inspired by "Take It Out on Me" by Florida Georgia Line.





	Take It Out On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I am not in anyway a Brallie shipper, so please enjoy this "Callie cheats on Brandon with Wyatt" fic. Please know I do not in any way condone cheating, just like writing some drama, lol.

The first time she shows up at the door of his tiny, messy apartment isn’t like the rest. 

The first time, she storms in without knocking, spitting out sharp words like his uncle does to sunflower seed shells before wilting like a wet newspaper. The first time, she cries openly in front of him and lets him press her face against his chest. The first time, he asks her who made her this upset, relief flooding his veins when Brandon’s name pops out of her mouth instead of his. The first time, he’s so worried about the way her bottom lip trembles that he doesn’t even bother to ask why it was him she came to.

It takes a few nights of the same old routine before he finally realizes that what she wants isn’t a bowl of ramen or a tissue to blot away her tears. The way she’d look at him, those dark eyes smoldering like smudged charcoal, had definitely made his stomach flip. But he’d ignored it, because he thought he was just making things up. Wishful thinking—she didn’t like him like that anymore, right? She was with Brandon. Even though he could see how well that was going, the two of them were still a thing. Callie and Brandon, Brandon and Callie. Stupid fights about whom they could tell what when, and why she wasn’t comfortable with this, and why that wasn’t fair to him? None of it was enough to make them break things off. 

It’s only on the fifth night, when she wraps her arms around his neck and roughly pins him against the wall that the message really comes through. For a moment, he’s so wrapped up in how much he missed her mouth on his that he really doesn’t register what’s happening between them. Pulling her closer, he tries to slow things down so she can feel how much she still means to him—he would tell her if he could, but he remembers that neither one of them is good at talking. But Callie’s not interested in slow. The way she twists the flannel fabric of his too-big shirt in her fingers proves that. 

Later, he wonders where she learned to make the first move. 

This isn’t about him. It’s never about him. It’s about Brandon—and you know what? He can’t bring himself to care. Because he’s done. All Callie ever does is use him—why not at least get something out of it? He doesn’t even have to pretend she’s kissing him because she wants to, not anymore. Now, he just shuts off his brain and gets lost in her. If this is the only way he can have her, then so be it.

She can take advantage of him as long as he gets to have her, for a little while. 

He never lets it go further than a make-out. There’s still that much ‘nice-guy’ left in him. Just kissing her is enough for him anyway. Also, he’s too afraid to ask how far she and Brandon have gone. He may not be making good choices, but he’s not enough of an a**hole to sleep with her before her actual boyfriend does. And even though she never says it out loud, he knows she’s grateful for that. 

It keeps her from feeling guiltier than she already does. 

There are times when he wonders if he should feel bad about what they’re doing. As much as he wishes Callie were with him instead of Brandon, it really isn’t cool for him to help her cheat on her foster brother-boyfriend. Even if the only reason she’s doing it is to get back at that foster brother-boyfriend for being a jerk. It’s amazing to him how cruel she can be—to Brandon, to him, but mostly to herself. He can tell that she doesn’t like who she’s become, but he’s done trying to save her from herself. He’s realized that if she wants to change for the better, she has to make that decision herself. Still, he often catches himself pondering the consequences of telling Callie that he can’t do this anymore; that it’s not fair to Brandon and certainly not to him.

But those times don’t last very long—usually just until the next night she walks through his door. 

They only lie awake together every so often, when he’s tired and she’s still angry but exhausted. They don’t talk about why she’s there; they usually don’t talk about anything at all. It’s almost peaceful, just lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that they’ve gone back to the days when they were Callie&Wyatt and she would make him coffee whenever he wanted and giggle at his bedhead and kiss him on the cheek to say hello. The memories make him smile, and he hopes she’s thinking about them too.

And then, once the dinky clock on his bedside table hits 2:37, she’s up and gone. She’s become a pro at shutting the door hard enough to sound final without it qualifying as an actual slam. After the ringing reverb of the noise dissipates, he always reaches over and smooths his palm over the sheets on her side. For some reason, they’re always cold. Like she’d never even been there at all. 

He acts like it’s okay, but what he really wants is to hold her hand and tell her she should just stay forever. 

Once, he asked her why she bothered to string both him and Brandon along.

“He’s got to know about this,” he’d said, keeping his eyes off her. “Why are you still with him, if things are this bad?”

“They’re not bad.” Biting her lip, she’d tried to keep up the façade.

“Callie. You’re here almost every week.”

She hadn’t responded to that one, just kissed the back of his neck in a coaxing manner that was way too unlike her. The wrongness of it had made him shiver, and he’d pulled away, even though he’d known it would hurt her feelings.

She had kind of deserved it, after all she’d done to him, but that didn’t keep him from feeling a twinge of regret when he’d imagined what her face must have looked like. 

“Brandon and I…we’ve been through so much to be together,” she’d finally admitted, drawing patterns on his back with her index finger. 

After that, he’d known not to ask. 

He has to believe that he means something to her. Not that what they’re doing means anything, but that he does. If what she’s looking for is a random fling to make Brandon jealous, there’s plenty of random sketchy guys who could help her do that. Guys who don’t have feelings for her like he does; guys that don’t have the potential to make things messy. H***, she’s probably met more than enough in her lifetime who she could easily call in on a favor. And even though he’s almost positive that Brandon hates him, he knows that she didn’t come to him because of that. No, there has to be a reason she’s chosen him that goes beyond the fact that they have a history. And maybe that reason is simply because she knows he’ll do anything for her. 

But hey, a choice is a choice, right?

One night, she falls asleep on his futon when the weather is particularly bad outside and his bed is occupied with laundry that needs to be folded. The blinking letters on the clock read 12:13, and Wyatt knows he doesn’t have much time. So, he checks to make sure she won’t wake up before whispering everything he wishes she would let him tell her. How he cares about her, even though he shouldn’t, and he wishes she cared about him enough not to use him. That even if the two of them will never be anything more than friends, that doesn’t mean her and Brandon are meant to be together. How he wishes that she could be happy, and that she wouldn’t get scared and sabotage things for herself. That he loves her, but he wishes sometimes he didn’t, because this is killing him. 

Saying it out loud is both freeing and cripplingly terrifying, regardless of the fact that she’s not awake to hear him say any of it. 

It’s interesting how he can tell exactly how she and Brandon are doing by the way she kisses him. If she’s angry when she first walks in, it means they’ve fought recently. Perhaps even a few hours before. If she cries before she forces their mouths together, it means that things have been better between them. Not great, but well enough that she’s feeling guilty again. If her lips are smooth and taste like peppermint, it means things have been going really well. Well enough for her to reapply Chapstick frequently. Did he mention how much he hates the taste of peppermint? He didn’t used to, but now the flavor just reminds him that he’s not the only one she’s kissing. But, if her lips are chapped, it means things haven’t been good between her and Brandon for a long time.

Even that one doesn’t bring him much happiness, though.

“Why do you let me do this to you?” she asks him, after they’ve been sneaking around for a couple of months. 

“Why do you care?” He knows it’s harsh, but he has to say it. H***, he’s barely allowed to say anything honest when they’re together. And even if he acts like he hates her, it’ll never change how he really feels. It won’t even be enough to make her break off their odd little arrangement. What they’re doing won’t stop just because Callie’s suddenly realizing that “friends with benefits” doesn’t always mean “no strings attached.”

Surprisingly, his tone doesn’t even earn a flinch. “Because I care about you, Wyatt.”

Chuckling, he turns away. 

“I do! And…and I’m sorry. I wish I’d never—”

Cutting her off, he plants a kiss on her lips. If he could, he’d make it a bitter one, but even she can’t teach him to kiss her in any way that’s not sweet. 

“Too late,” he whispers.


End file.
